Chapter Nineteen: The Mystery of Origins

The force of the black light did not cease; the serpent’s body slammed into the barrier behind, fiercely pressing backward. Endless waves of darkness rippled and surged within the boundary, forming terrible hurricanes, causing the barrier to tremble like the surface of a lake beneath a storm. Ling Xiaolei clenched her teeth, hands tightly locked in the spell, feet planted firmly on the ground as she struggled to support the barrier.

Seeing the serpent’s massive body nearly shatter the barrier behind her, with the dark power about to spill forth, she braced herself, her gaze fierce: “Barrier overlay—Rashomon!”

Beyond the shattered barrier, three enormous gate-shaped boundaries suddenly rose, blocking the surge of darkness once more. Only when the final gate stood tall did the dark power gradually dissipate, though the hurricane and flying sand and stones had already turned the world upside down.

Ling Xiaolei staggered as if drained, her body collapsing in exhaustion; every ounce of her magic spent. The barrier broke, its fragments falling and vanishing.

The giant serpent, blasted by the black light, was thrown a hundred meters away; along its path, all vegetation had been leveled.

Black Feather surveyed the scorched earth. Within the protected area, the darkness had not leaked out, but outside the shield, especially after the first barrier shattered, the surrounding plants had been tainted with the dark aura, rapidly withering and dying.

Black Feather swept his dark wings, descending slowly beside the serpent’s corpse. Above the dead serpent’s head, a soul crystal, brimming with powerful magic accumulated over a century, floated. Black Feather reached out and took the soul crystal, absorbing it. His energy stabilized, a ceaseless flow circulating through his body.

“This serpent’s soul crystal is formidable indeed—a hundred years of cultivation. My magic has grown considerably,” he said, then flew back to Ling Xiaolei’s side.

“It seems Twilight Forest is the right place. From now on, this will be our training ground: classes by day at the academy, monster hunts by night. It won’t be long before my magic advances another realm!” Black Feather plucked a leaf nearby, its surface tainted by a shadowy aura and already showing signs of decay.

“Your barrier isn’t much, is it? You couldn’t even withstand this level of attack. You’d better hurry and train harder.” Ling Xiaolei rolled her eyes and remained sprawled on the ground.

“Don’t drag me along anymore…”

The reason dark magic is forbidden and shunned across the continent lies in its destructive effect on the environment. Had Black Feather’s earlier spell not been contained by the barrier, the entire forest would have been corrupted by the dark aura, withering and rotting in moments.

“You’re really useless. That’s enough training for today,” Black Feather said, looking at the collapsed Ling Xiaolei. He wrapped an arm around her waist, lifted her onto his shoulder like a sack, then spread his wings and flew back toward the Holy City.

It was deep into the night. Black Feather landed atop the spire of the Magic Academy’s main building. After a smooth landing, he set Ling Xiaolei down and folded his wings.

The academy was utterly silent; the dormitory lights extinguished, the athletic fields deserted. In the distance, the light in the headmaster’s office atop the building still shone.

“Is Headmaster Yunlan still awake…?” Black Feather wondered. “Perhaps he’s working late. I’ve heard he’s extremely dedicated to his students—seems to be true.”

He reminded Ling Xiaolei, “We mustn’t let the headmaster or anyone else discover our secret trips to Twilight Forest, or I fear I’ll be expelled.”

“It might drag me down too!” Ling Xiaolei, her strength mostly returned, brushed the dust from her clothes.

“We’re in the same boat now,” Black Feather said with a sly grin.

Ling Xiaolei, still dizzy, muttered, “That was terrifying. That serpent isn’t a beast one expects to find in an ordinary forest. Do you really plan to keep training like this?”

“Don’t you trust my power?”

She recalled Black Feather during the battle: eyes blazing red, his whole being suffused with unfamiliar darkness, a cold smile lingering on his lips—a wholly different person from his usual self. “Perhaps that’s his true nature,” she thought.

“Next time, could you warn me before you use such spells? That sudden unsealing… What was it?”

“Oh, that,” Black Feather raised his right hand. “I carry ten seals. Each one I break increases my power by a stage. When I was younger, I couldn’t undo even the first. Now, I can manage just one. Once all are undone, I’ll reclaim my original strength.”

“Why bother training then? Break them all at once and you’ll be at the level of a Grand Master Mage!”

Black Feather tapped her head lightly. “It’s not that simple…”

“Unless absolutely necessary, I won’t unseal any more. If I do, the strain might far exceed what my body can bear, causing severe harm. At worst, I could lose consciousness and go berserk; at best, my body might tear apart and I could die.”

“I see…” Ling Xiaolei pried open his hand, eager to see the mark for herself. As she leaned in, Black Feather withdrew his hand.

That birthmark seemed to be his source of power, perhaps tied to the mystery of his origins—a secret he would not reveal to outsiders.

“Come on, it’s too dark to see anything…”

The two walked down the rooftop slope, jumping over each roof and balcony like silent cats.

“I’ve never heard you mention your origins. All I know is that the Lord of Red Flame City is your foster father, and Yi Xin is your brother. How did you end up in his household?” Ling Xiaolei asked cautiously, striving to match Black Feather’s nimble steps. The night wind played with her hair, spinning a delicate web that blurred her vision, making it hard to see Black Feather ahead.

When his origins were mentioned, Black Feather fell silent, his silhouette cold.

“Hey, every time I bring this up, you clam up.”

The truth was, he did not know his own origin. His memory before age eight was a blank. At eight, his foster father rescued him from a research facility.

The thought brought a splitting headache, and several images flashed before his eyes: under pale lights, researchers in white coats approached, needles in hand, faces twisted with malicious smiles. Each bore the same scorpion tattoo. The young Black Feather, bound in chains, struggled desperately, eyes wide with terror, breath growing frantic.

He pressed his forehead, calming himself as the images faded. His feet touched solid ground; around him, only darkness and silence.